Wild Thing
by Pandorama
Summary: God, it was sexy when she was bad. Risque oneshot, not overly explicit. Luka and Abby.


_A one-shot that started off as a challenge to myself and became a week-long obsession. Risque for sexual themes and non-explicit scene, but in my opinion, not "R" rated. Hope you all enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it..._

She'd been sitting on the steps of his apartment, a cigarette hanging languidly from her fingers, smoke curling around her small frame when he'd come down. He'd leaned up against the rail and watched her, unblinking for what seemed like an eternity as she brought the thing to her mouth, drew the smoke in slowly, savoured, and let her eyelids fall closed as a stream of smoke came like a long, grey ribbon through her lips and surrounded her like a snake strangling its prey. He'd sat there, watching her revel in the first, and then the second, a look of sensuous transfixation on his face. The kiss she'd leave on the paper as she let the cigarette rest delicately between her pale lips, the deliberate gaze as she inhaled, the relieved, orgasmic expression as she exhaled. He'd watched the last ashes glow on the cement before breaking the silence and informing her _god, it was sexy when she was bad_. And then the idea had come to her, like a delicious, maniacal crusade.

He was startled by the knock on his door that evening, she'd been scheduled for a shift and he'd resigned himself to the prospect of sleeping alone. His heart had come dangerously close to paralysis when he'd opened the door to reveal her, leather-clad, jauntily leaning against the doorframe in a pair of black boots, with what had to be a mirage tucked under her arm. "Get your jacket."

Words failed him. She held out something to him, something that looked very much like – yes, yes it was, it was a helmet. He turned to her in shock, wide eyed. "What? I thought –"

"When your girlfriend shows up at your door in leather chaps and boots, and tells you to get your jacket, you don't question it." She pursed her lips. "Get your jacket. We're going for a ride."

He'd miraculously been capable enough to dress himself and retrieve a jacket from the hall. Her hand gripped his wrist and she pulled him, still in a daze, down the stairs to the street where she stopped in front of a gleaming BMW motorcycle. She reached up and let her hand trace his jawline. "You said you liked it when I was bad." The snaps of her helmet accented her point. "Well here's bad. Get on."

"I can't ride." It was the first coherent sentence he'd formed since her arrival. He held the helmet in two hands, throat dry, mind numb.

She slid onto the leather seat. "I can." She slid her visor up and gazed at him coolly, perfectly composed. Luka felt his blood run cold. _Jesus._ A gloved hand extended towards him, beckoning. "Come here." She caught the sleeve of his jacket and pulled him with little resistance to sit behind her. She laced her fingers through his and leaned forward to place both their palms on the handlebars. Luka found himself on the verge of losing what little composure he had left as he was pulled forward, the gap between them negligible, his hips pressed into hers. He found himself extraordinarily aroused, contemplating dragging her bodily from the bike up to his apartment. He was shaken out of his trance by the sound of her gunning the motor. Bad, indeed. And yet so incredibly good. He leaned into her as the vibrations coursed through both of them, enough to push him over the edge, and then his apartment disappeared behind them.

He wished he could dispose of his helmet. The positioning of his face in relation to her shoulder was ideal for him to attack, granted, they'd more than likely drive off the road if he tried it. Her body conducted the heat of the bike, the rumbling of the engine, the absolute danger of it all, and he knew why his hands were on the handles, laced with hers. He was untrustworthy. The scenery that flashed by was of no importance, he'd seen trees before, but this, _she_, deserved his undivided attention. The ride was disconcerting, phantasmagoric, and powerfully sensual in a way he knew he could never replicate elsewhere. Their bodies pressed together, her fingers curled around his, gripping the acceleration, her slender figure leather-clad, driving a snarling beast off into the distance of god-knows-who-cares where. His knees pressed urgently against her hips and the sudden realization that she'd done this for him hit full force. His fingers began to strain away from her grasp, and she understood. The growl of the engine subsided as she slowed, turned once, twice, and veered towards a sandy embankment over which he could make out moonlight glinting off a lake. She'd planned it.

He was off before she'd even stopped the bike behind the privacy of a sandy dune, breathing heavily, helmet tossed astray. Slowly, deliberately, she removed her helmet to reveal a wickedness in her eyes visible even in the darkness that blanketed them. She leaned forward to rest her elbows on the handlebars and stare up at him with absolute fire in her expression. "Didn't know I could do that, did you?" Her tongue traced her lips, and he found himself completely transfixed, waiting for her to continue. She freed her hands from the gloves, shook off the jacket, and leaned even lower to expose an appreciated view. "Bad enough for you?"

The woman captivated him. His head spun, clouding any coherent thought he'd have liked to form, mouth opened in a mix of shock, awe, and absolute loss for how he'd come to find himself on an abandoned beach, surrounded by darkness, damp sand, and a petite brunette that had the power to knock the wind out of him with nothing more than a sly smile. However long he'd been frozen, staring at her, he didn't know, didn't care. The few steps towards her took immense concentration as not to lose his balance in his infatuation-drunken state, and he reached out to pull her from the bike. She moved into his arms, a small shriek of surprise as he lifted her with ease from the ground and pressed his mouth to hers. "What in hell did I do to deserve you?" His voice was a low, carnal growl.

Her ankles locked around his waist and she leaned back, letting her head fall behind her as she laughed, a succulent, juicy, sweet dessert of a laugh and her hair cascaded down to brush the sand as she gripped his arms and allowed herself to nearly lay perpendicular to his waist. He held her and shook his head and smiled as though and invisible force had taken hold of the corners of his mouth. The world could cave in and he'd continue to smile. She pulled herself back up to eye level with him and gave him a wild grin, eyes sparkling as he'd never seen them.

The dune shielded them from the road, though not a soul would pass by for hours, as they fell onto the sand in the company of the shining behemoth that had taken them there. Leather and jean were stripped and discarded and again she laughed, this time filled with distinct mischief. The sand against her bare back was altogether an unexpected pleasure as a devilish grin spread over his face and he hovered over her, taking it all in. She turned her head in unison with his lowering head and suddenly the delicate skin of her neck was under assault. Her eyes closed and a moan escaped her, encouraging him as his hands explored her every curve, every inch, every previously established secret discovery he'd made of her body. His breathing quickened as she repeated her fervent assessment, this time twisting her body below him with urgency. Their mouths met and pulled hungrily together as he positioned himself above her, and then, union. He filled her in every sense of the world, her expectations, her needs, her emotions, her being. They moved together, well practiced to an art, but then, it had always been as though an understanding existed between their bodies. Warmth spread through her like fire as he moved with pure resolve and dedication. Equality had to be established. The danger of being exposed in the dark night spurred them on, a wild passion like never before overtly evident in their coition. The force of his motion was offset by the inherent, gentle attention he ritually showed her, but still, she had never felt the sort of animalistic nature of the act paired with the sand and cool night and she let out a guttural moan as intense sensation took hold. She opened her body to him and channeled every shred of energy into the act, clasped her body around him, and tightened herself around him in a desperate attempt to nullify the last bit of separation between them and achieve a singularity she craved. He trembled and managed but two words, strained and low, but sure. "God, Abby." It was, at that moment, more than an utterance of his appreciation, but a subconscious statement. He would worship her first and foremost, above any other force. She was his deity now.

Her back arched as they reached catharsis, pressing into him in a way that seared into him, mind utterly lost now in the act. Every muscle in his body tensed as he muttered her name a second time, face frozen in ultimate nirvana, and she joined him only a fraction of a second later, genuine in the last moan that accompanied. They collapsed together onto the sand, struggling for breath and sanity. He moved slightly to keep from crushing her under him and pushed his face into her neck to drink in the scent of her newfound wild streak. There was a long silence until he finally could form a thought. "How did I ever fall for a wild thing like you?"


End file.
